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I was born in Greystones,
Co. Wicklow; a small picturesque, fishing village on the east coast of Ireland. I
was the seventh child in a family of thirteen, and I have to say that all my
childhood memories and recollections are filled with warm family laughter and happiness.
My mother and father were just fantastic. They had very little money, but
somehow they managed to feed and clothe us all, and keep us warm and cozy in our
little house a mile up the road from Greystones Harbor.

Of course, by today’s
standards, we had nothing. But maybe today’s lifestyle of television sets in
every room, ipods and cell phones a permanent fixture in our
children's hands, and computers and playstations on all day, every day, is not necessarily the
best way of life for our children.

All my memories were of
simpler times. Much simpler times!Sitting by the fire on a cold winter’s night with my sisters and
brothers, my father and mother telling stories about their tough childhood and
how lucky we all were. Yes, we were so lucky. We had a warm, dry house, and
plenty of bread to toast on the long pronged fork by the fire. Our family drank
about ten pots of tea a day! I vividly remember the table by the fire, with rows of cups lined up in the middle, and the fresh loaves of bread, sliced and
slathered with butter and home made jam on the big floral bread plate. My
father often times remarked "What more could we want for?" with a genuine sense
of gratitude. In his mind, we had it all.

We spent endless days
playing hide and seek in the barley fields, climbing and knocking down
haystacks before being chased home by the farmers. We were allowed to run free
until dark under the watchful eyes of our brothers and sisters, always coming
home with our clothes dirty and grubby, totally exhausted, but content. Our world seemed safe and content back then with not a care or a worry.

Neighbors and relatives
dropped in continuously throughout the day, and because there was always a kettle
of boiling water on the stove, tea was usually served up within minutes of
arrival, with of course, the customary slice of bread. My mother was very
welcoming and most gracious to all who entered her home. My father continued
this graciousness and generosity right up until the day he died, August 22,
2008. He lived all his life in the same little house and everyone was offered a
good cup of tea, a slice of bread, and a sausage or rasher if he had any. My own
children thought that to toast bread by the fire on Granddad’s long pronged fork
was just great, and they still talk about it to this day.

I moved to the USA with my husband and eldest two children in 1984, and spent the next eighteen years in beautiful Vermont, while having two more children. Our family moved to the Central Valley of California in 2002, where we still live just outside the city of Fresno.

I started writing to keep
myself busy when my own children moved out of the home to go to college and beyond. "The Cart full of Holly" was my first book. “Lavender Fields” followed fast behind and my third book "Evening Rose" was just published Nov 2013.
I just completed a wonderful trip to Ireland to promote "Evening Rose" and I enjoyed many cozy nights of wine and Irish music, cake and tea and great company.

E-books are available for all my novels.
If you wish to order a hard copy of any of my books just email me at
marieobyrne@gmail.com